nd the corral.

She did not resist, knowing that physical resistance would be futile.

He shoved her into the stable, and she stood there, unresisting while he
saddled a horse. She could not see him, but she could hear him as he
moved about; and presently he spoke shortly to her from a point close
by:

"Here's a cayuse--saddled an' bridled. You want to get on him here, or
outside?"

"Outside," she said, coldly.

In front of the stable door she mounted, Antrim helping her despite her
scornful protest.

"Listen," he said, as he stood for an instant at the horse's head, dimly
outlined. "You'd better go to Hamlin's--that's nearest. An' make
arrangements to stay there. I'm burnin' the Circle L buildin's. There
won't be a stick standin' when I get through! When I get through, I'm
goin' back to my place on the Rabbit Ear. My men have all gone with the
cattle, an' I'll be there alone. You can tell that damned son of yours
that! Understand? He's aimin' to get even for what I'm doin' tonight,
he'll find me at my place--alone--waitin' for him! Now, get goin'."

Mrs. Lawler did not answer. She took up the reins and sent the horse
forward, past the bunkhouses and the corral and the ranchhouse--through
the valley and up the long rise that led to the great plains above.

It took her a long time to reach the plains, and when she looked back
she saw some leaping tongues of flame issuing from the doors of the
bunkhouse. Two or three of the other buildings were on fire; and the
windows of the ranchhouse were illuminated by a dull red glare. But the
woman made no sound that would have betrayed the emotions that tortured
her. She turned her back to the burning buildings and rode onward,
toward the Hamlin cabin--trying, in this crisis, to live the code she
had taught her son; endeavoring to vindicate the precepts that she had
dinned into his ears all the days of his life--that courage in adversity
is the ultimate triumph of character--the forge in which is fashioned
the moral fiber which makes men strong and faithful.

CHAPTER XXX

A WOMAN LIES

Lawler had said little to Sheriff Moreton on the ride to Willets. Nor
had he made any comment when, in the Circle L ranchhouse, in the
presence of his mother, Moreton had shown him the statement signed by
Della Wharton. He had silently passed it back to Moreton; and had walked
to Mrs. Lawler--telling her why the sheriff had come; smilingly taking
leave of her while Moreton, swea